


Keep me honest, keep me true

by Squishychickies



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson Gets a Hug, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd is Red Hood, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Sick Character, Sick Dick Grayson, Sickfic, Tim Drake is Red Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:15:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29006673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squishychickies/pseuds/Squishychickies
Summary: Smiling invitingly, Dick opens his arms. "Come snuggle," he implores."No," Jason interjects, "no, absolutely not. I consented to hugging you, not them."Dick gets sick and, oh no, snuggles are the only cure!
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Comments: 16
Kudos: 325





	Keep me honest, keep me true

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah you might have guessed but this is the most self-indulgent sickfic ever created. I didn't put too much time or effort into it but I think it's you know at least relatively cute so please do enjoy. 
> 
> Title from "Everything I Own" by The Front Bottoms. A very good song. Does it necessarily have much to do with the theme of this work? Let me get back to you on that.

The room is blessedly dark and his cocoon on the couch miraculously warm. Eyes closed, burrowed into soft blankets and the warm chest that gently rises and falls beneath him, it is easy to let the rest of the world fall away. To imagine that this tiny, safe island he rests upon is all there is--no danger, no responsibilities, no pain. Just warmth and safety.

Dick dozes. Not truly sleeping, but not fully aware of his surroundings either. A hand cards slowly through his hair, and it's a small, precious comfort against his raging headache. Fuck, his head. It's like the simple act of acknowledging the pain summons a whole new wave of it. Dick would whine pathetically over it in a dramatic attempt to garner sympathy from Jason, but honestly, doing anything of the sort feels like way too much effort to be worth it. At the moment, doing anything at all sounds like too much effort. His exhausted limbs are too weighed down to move, his fatigued eyelids too heavy to open, and his voice too ragged to make use of.

The one effort that seems even vaguely worth the energy is burrowing further into Jason's chest, so that's what Dick does, weakly brushing his nose against Jason's shirt in a depressed imitation of a nuzzle.

Jason, at least, seems to appreciate the effort, and helps Dick complete the maneuver by pulling him in closer with the arm wrapped around him. It's comfy.

Dick falls asleep again. 

*

Voices are what wake him an indeterminable amount of time later, along with a rude, insistent pounding on the door.

"Grayson, Todd," commands someone loudly, "I am entering in ten seconds and I expect not to be traumatized by what I find inside."

"What he said," adds someone else.

Ten seconds pass as promised, and though his face is buried safely in Jason's chest and his eyes closed, Dick can already picture Jason's scowl as his arms tense around him. The door swings open and the lights are flicked on. Dick can feel the brightness burning against his closed eyelids, and wants it gone. Instead of getting up to flip the light switch, though, Dick just turns his head so his eyes are protected by Jason's warm arm. Jason helpfully pulls the blanket up a bit. 

A disgusted scoff. "What are you doing," Damian demands, eyeing them incredulously. Dick, turning his head ever so slightly, cracks his eyes open to the bare minimum required to observe Damian. His hands are on his hips and his posture reads absolute appallment. Tim is slouched a few feet behind him to the right, scrolling through his phone in an attempt to look casually disinterested. The effect is ruined by the worried way his eyes flicker surreptitiously towards Dick and back every few seconds."Patrol starts in a quarter of an hour."

Dick closes his eyes again, relieved that there is no pressing emergency. He relaxes back into Jason, missing the hand that carded through his hair and wishing Jason would get back to doing that.

"Yeah, I thought you said you'd be in the cave?" Tim adds, still glancing anxiously back at his phone every few seconds as if to assure them that it doesn't really matter to him either way, or maybe that he's got better things to do. It's an obvious, transparent facade.

"He _was_ in the cave," Jason growls, annoyance evident in every syllable. Still, he keeps his voice quiet--considerate. Tim cringes slightly, looking inexplicably guilty at the tone, but Damian just steps forward, the angry scrunch of his nose threatening murder. "That's where I found him. Lookin' like he was about to keel over in the goddamn batchair."

Somehow, Damian's glare manages to deepen, and his face goes an adorable shade of firetruck red. This, Dick knows from experience, is the face that heralds imminent doom for any unlucky soul unfortunate enough to be on its receiving end. Dick has, several times, and the fact that he has survived the encounters is nothing short of a miracle. "Why," Damian begins in a dangerous voice, "was Grayson--"

"He's sick, you fucking dumbass," Jason snarls. Dick feels the way his muscles tense, his hold around Dick tight enough to make strangulation a legitimate worry. For whatever reason, Dick thinks he kind of likes that. It feels safe. Protective, like Jason is a set of armor he can wear anywhere he wants to go. Though, right now, where he wants to go is _back to sleep._ He's really fucking tired, and rest provides solace from his thumping headache and uneasy stomach. Sleep. He wonders if he could take Jason _there_ with him, too. How wonderful would it be to share his dreams? He wants to share everything about Jason, and in turn, offer him everything that makes Dick who and what he is. "How did you not notice? You've been with him all day."

Damian's nose unfurrows, and then he just looks lost and upset--to the extent that Damian ever does. To someone who doesn't know Damian, it wouldn't be obvious--a rise of his eyebrows; the smallest wobble of his chin. To Dick, those changes speak volumes. And as little as Jason likes to admit he associates with the _Demon Brat,_ Dick knows Jason can see it too. "I--had assumed he was merely tired, from working his case last night."

"Yeah," Tim agrees, shifting from foot to foot and finally putting away his phone with an uneasy expression, "it did seem like a pretty rough case. Thought he was fine, though. I mean, he's Dick, he's--"

"Does he look fucking fine," Jason hisses, sounding for all the world like a feral cat protecting her kittens. Dick will have to tease him about it later, once he doesn't feel like he'll freeze to death the instant he leaves the safe haven of his bed--of Jason's arms. As is, he just shivers. And anyways, he loves the protective side of Jason. Having someone to protect and safeguard him, not out of obligation but because he _wants to,_ means everything. It's a favor Dick would return any day. Or _every_ day.

Tim does, as usual, have a point--it _had_ been a pretty rough case. Too much destruction--too many innocent lives on the line. And while it was true that it might have been best for Dick's health to take a break, maybe catch a few days off to enjoy some relaxation, it wouldn't have felt right. Why should Dick's health take precedence over the health of the citizens at risk? Dick's always lived by the belief that if someone _can_ help, they should. So yes, while he'd been aware he was getting sick, he'd decided that he had other priorities. His illness wasn't going to kill him, at any rate. He would be fine in the long run.

Now though, with the case closed successfully and the perpetrators in prison, maybe his health could take precedence. But Damian had sounded so eager when he'd inquired if Dick would be visiting the manor to join the bats for patrol, and Dick _has_ been looking to improve his relationship with Tim. Jason had even agreed to join in--a rare and worthy occasion indeed. _These_ are all the things Dick cares about--all things worth prioritizing over his own health. His loved ones will come first, every single time. They depend on him, and he wants always to be worthy of that trust.

Except, at some point during training with Damian, Dick's headache had escalated into dizziness and he'd needed to sit down. And after that, at lunch, the pain in his stomach had grown until it threatened an extremely unpleasant outcome should Dick refuse to push his full plate away. That was when Dick had resigned himself to an incredibly unenjoyable night of patrol, and had made his way down to the Batcave to read over case files and hopefully will the pain away.

That was when Jason showed up and dragged him to bed, using cuddles as a bribe.

"He... will still be available for patrol, yes?" asks Damian, sounding worried. "We require backup for tonight's operation."

Dick, who has been paying only perfunctory attention to the conversation so far, opens his eyes fully at Damian's question. "Totally," Dick manages to say, using Jason's arm to steady himself as he sits up. "Just gimme a few to get ready."

"Um, that doesn't actually sound like a good idea," Tim chimes in at the same time as Jason growls out, "Absolutely not," and pushes Dick back down into the sheets.

"You're like a million degrees," Jason says. "You've spent the last two hours trying not to puke--"

"And succeeding," Dick interjects helpfully.

"--and you look so tired, you're about to fall asleep sitting up. So fuck no, you are not going on patrol. You get me?"

Beneath the force of Jason's glare, blue-green and tinted with awful anger and soft concern, Dick melts. "Okay," he whispers, leaning back against the pillows. It's not something he'd ever admit out loud, but secretly, he's glad Jason's given him an out. Patrol tonight sounds like hell. Even _existing_ tonight is not going so well. If he went out and tried to fight crime, the criminals would probably choke and die from laughing too hard at him. Plus. Getting out of bed sounds like effort. His limbs are so heavy. The bed is so warm.

Jason sighs, heavy with relief, and his eyes soften. He runs a hand across Dick's forehead and through his hair, and bends down to kiss his sweaty brow. "How fucking hard was that," he mutters. Dick doesn't respond. He gets the feeling it was a rhetorical question. Jason rolls his eyes, then sits up straight. "I'll take Nightwing's place," he says, and begins to climb out of bed. 

"No," Dick whines dramatically as Jason begins to stand. He reaches an arm out of his blanket burrito to cling to any part of Jason he can reach, but his fingers are trembling from cold and fever, and Jason manages to escape his grip with ease. "Jay. _Jay._ Come on."

"I have to go," Jason tells him in a tone that invites no argument, reaching for his jacket where it's been hung on the bedpost. He shrugs it on after checking the pockets for his supplies. "You want the baby birds to die because you wouldn't let me out of bed?"

Dick just huffs out an upset breath, and Jason's expression softens. "You'll be okay," Jason assures, voice strong and confident. "I'll be back in the morning. We can sleep in. Or I can make you breakfast in bed. Alright?"

"I'll throw up if you make me breakfast," Dick grumbles, partly because he suspects it's the truth and partly because he's still upset with Jason for leaving.

"So I'll make _me_ breakfast in bed," Jason amends. "Either way I'll be back. Okay?"

Dick glares at him, feeling miserable. He really doesn't want Jason to leave. But there's not another viable option, and he knows it.

"Okay," he says, because he has to.

"I'll be back," Jason promises one last time. Then he and Tim are out the door.

Damian hesitates for a moment before darting over to Dick's bedside. "I will ensure Todd's safety," he promises awkwardly, meeting Dick's eyes but looking like he wishes he weren't. "And in return you must ensure your own. You will be okay?"

Dick's breath catches in his lungs and he grins a little up at Damian. "Course I will," he says, reaching out a hand to brush Damian's fingers with his own. Damian's hands are so small. He's just a kid still. "Now go."

Damian does, making sure to close the door behind him and turn out the lights.

And then Dick is alone again.

*

Solitude, Dick quickly realizes, exaggerates his symptoms to an almost unbearable degree. Now that there's no warm body beside him, he feels horribly cold underneath his blankets. Maybe he could get up and relocate to the living room, settle down with some blankets on the couch in front of the fireplace, but standing feels like a monumental task--one that he has no desire to undertake. On top of the dreadful chills and nonstop shivering, Dick's limbs feel heavier than weights in the gym. Lifting each one is a challenge. Standing, which he has not recently attempted, sounds even more painful.

What Dick really wants right about now is two things: First, someone to cuddle. Second, to pass the fuck out and sleep for the next eight years approximately. The cuddling is probably his top priority though. God. It's been like fifteen minutes, and he misses Jason already.

Jason, despite all his bravado and prickly tough-guy exterior, is _always_ there for Dick when he needs him. Sick, injured, whatever the ailment may be, Jason is there and ready to cater to his slightest whim like a short order chef. Always. Maybe not with the best of attitudes, but he's there nonetheless. And that's what makes all the difference.

Just thinking about it makes Dick miss him, so, _so_ badly all of a sudden. It's probably just the fever, making him feel absolutely shitty and a tiny bit delirious, but he feels an angry burning behind his eyes. How dare Jason leave him? Like, what the fuck? Absolutely unacceptable. 

Next time he sees Jason, he'll make sure to tell him. That it was unacceptable to leave. And the only way Jason can redeem himself is lots of cuddles this very instant. The only way. Dick just really wants to not be alone right now, okay. Is that too much to ask for?

He exhales sharply through his nose, making an annoyed, mournful sound, and then rolls himself over so his nose is buried in the pillow. He'll wait. Jason will come back eventually, and when he is, the snuggle tax must be paid _or else._

*

Exhausted as he is, Dick is frustratingly unable to get any sort of restful sleep. His headache makes falling asleep for any meaningful length of time utterly impossible, he alternates between feeling too warm and too cold, and his stomach is uneasy, which means any number of positions that he generally finds comfortable are tonight making him feel like undoubtedly nauseous. Not good.

Alfred comes in to visit him once or twice, checking his temperature and forcing him to take sips of refreshing water. Dick loves Alfred, but tonight, he finds his presence utterly annoying. He just wants Jason. Where is he, why hasn't he come back yet? Alfred is _not_ Jason. 

He shoves Alfred away with a pissed-off mumble, and he bustles away, promising to return with more water in an hour. So Dick is understandably irritated when the door opens and only thirty minutes have passed. "No," he whines, turning away from the door as if that will deter Alfred on his quest to hydrate Dick. "Go away."

A soft, deep chuckle. "I thought you wanted me to come back."

Dick's eyes fly open. "Jason?"

Framed by the light in the doorframe is Jason in a pair of sweatpants and nothing else. Were Dick feeling better he'd be all over that, but as is, he sees Jason's bare chest and his only thought is that it must be delightfully warm to snuggle up to. He waves his arms to the extent of his ability to move and says, "C'mere, come on, come here."

It's probably in Jason's best interest that he obeys, sliding the scrunched up covers out of the way and settling in next to Dick. Instantly Dick is curling up next to him, wrapping his arms around Jason and clutching on tight as if to prevent Jason from ever leaving. God. He's never allowed to leave, ever again. "I'm very angry," Dick murmurs, hoping his tone conveys his utter annoyance.

Jason grins, and Dick scowls to see it. "Are you," Jason says, sounding traitorously amused.

"Yes," Dick says, unmoved, "you left."

"I came back," Jason helpfully points out.

"You wouldn't have had to come back if you didn't leave," Dick argues sensibly. Checkmate, Jason. Try refuting that one. Case closed.

Jason runs a hand through Dick's hair and Dick snuggles in closer. "That is a very convoluted point," Jason observes, "but technically not wrong?" He pulls the blankets up around them, so they're safely enclosed in a warm blanket burrito. This. This is what Dick's been missing. Jason leans down to kiss his forehead. "I'm sorry, baby," he says, voice gentle and deep. "Won't leave again."

Dick sighs and closes his eyes, satisfied. For a few minutes he lets himself drift, sort of dozing but mostly awake to feel the way Jason gently rubs his back, up and down in little circles. Then the door opens.

Dick cracks open his eyes and is pleased to see Damian strutting his way into the bedroom, Tim on his heels. Both are in their pajamas. They probably stopped by on their way to bed.

Smiling invitingly, Dick opens his arms. He has a better idea. "Come snuggle," he implores.

"No," Jason interjects, "no, absolutely not. I consented to hugging you, not them."

"Come on," Dick continues, "there's plenty of room." Talking so much hurts his voice, but it is worth it for the end goal. Of course, being sick sucks. But it does have a few advantages--the most important one, of course, being his increased guilt-trip leverage. If ever he can convince Tim, Damian, _and_ Jason to snuggle him all at once, it will be when he's sick and _clearly_ in need of some quality comfort.

"If it is necessary to your wellbeing," says Damian, sounding grim like a soldier resigned to doing whatever he must do.

"It is." Dick is quick to confirm.

"Then I suppose there is only one option," Damian agrees gravely, already making his way towards the bed. 

"I said no!" Jason snaps, wiggling away from Dick. "If they get into this bed, I'm leaving."

Dick does not hesitate to maneuver himself completely on top of Jason, pinning him to the bed to make escape impossible. "Hey!" Jason snaps, looking affronted. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"What we must," Tim says dramatically, and then he's crawling into the bed on Dick's left side. Damian takes the right, and soon Dick and Jason are trapped between the embrace of two baby birds. Dick's favorite place to be. His head still hurts and he can't stop his shivers, but he manages to smile anyways.

Dick sighs happily, reaching out an arm to yank Damian closer. "Perfect," he murmurs.

"This is torture," Jason says dryly, staring up at the ceiling as if it will rescue him somehow. "Kill me now."

"Which method do you prefer?" inquires Damian primly, voice muffled against Dick's arm. "I have several weapons concealed on my person. You can take your pick."

Jason snorts, caught off guard, a sideways little smirk forming on his lips. "I'll ponder that," he agrees sarcastically.

"Well, you gotta stay here til you decide," Tim reasons logically.

Dick tunes them out, letting himself relax fully.

Finally.

This is what he's wanted for so, so long.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hopefully now that I've gotten this out of my system I can concentrate on, you know, something that's good? Maybe my WIP that I've been putting off for like several days. Psh.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Constructive criticism is welcome, I LOVE and read every single comment, and kudos and bookmarks are super exciting! Thanks again and have a super awesome day.


End file.
